


You Heard My Voice (I Came Out of the Woods by Choice)

by HatlessHoneybee



Category: Inglourious Basterds (2009)
Genre: Banter, Bathing/Washing, Canon Jewish Character, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Idk what to say, Kissing, Main original character, Medical Procedures, Minor Character Death, Pre-Movie, Russian character, Snarky characters, Some Romance, World War II, dont hate me, gender hiding for safety issues, made by a girl from an americanized Russian fam, medical stuff i learned as an EMT, probably historical innacuracies, probs some cultural innacuracy, read it and find out, some sexual content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:28:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23293258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HatlessHoneybee/pseuds/HatlessHoneybee
Summary: Konstantin "Kostya" Pashkov was unhappy with her life in New York as a Russian Immigrant. When the war started, at the advice of her mother, she returned home and enlisted as a combat medic for the Russian Army under the guise of a young man. Three years into her enlistment she and her squad are captured by Nazi's occupying France. A fire-fight resulting in the death of her squad and German captors and a bullet in her leg at the hand of the American's known as the Basterds provides her with a new chance in the war and at life.
Relationships: Aldo Raine/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 13
Kudos: 45





	1. A Meeting with Chance

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I hope you like this. I don't usually do canon characters with OC's but I had this idea and I just had to do it. Let me know if you guys spot anything wonky. I do not know German or German customs beyond what my ex-boyfriend taught me. Though I am from a Russian family, when they immigrated to America, they wanted to leave their culture behind in order to blend in better, so I only know stories told by my grandmother as well as some of the original versions of our names before becoming Americanized, so if I have made any cultural mistakes I am very sorry and would appreciate it if you would correct me. Thank you and happy reading.

_So when your hopes on fire_  
_But you know your desire_  
_Don't hold a glass over the flame_  
_Don't let your heart grow cold_  
_I will call you by name_  
_I will share your road_

Her knees hitting the cold ground was a blessing and a punishment for Kostya. The blessing coming from the relief of rest after traveling over the French forests for over twelve goddamn hours. The punishment was that she was forced to her knees by a German luger pressed to the back of her skull, chuckles and German words thrown around over her head like she was completely ignorant of their language. Like she was below them. Less than.

Her green eyes shifted over to the row of her brothers, each in Russian uniforms matching her own and each with the patches torn from them. Her own uniform was in the same state, her medic band ripped from her arm and stomped into the dirt when they were first captured. It was a form of disrespect, degredation and Kostya knew it. She knew it just the same she was sure the one who ordered it done knew it. Every night she had spent as a prisoner to the Germans over these last eleven days, she closed her eyes with thoughts of murdering the Leutinant of their captors.

He was a small man, nothing compared to most of the Russians she had served with. In fact, her brother in arms often made fun of her, calling her things such as "младший брат" or "Little Brother". They giggled, completely unaware of her status as a woman and she reveled in the comradary and equality of it all. Now she was here, treated as dirt by a man who was barely an inch taller than her, with not much muscle to compete with. But he had all the right badges and patches, giving him all the respect he seemed so in love with. Herman, she believe his name was.

"Pashkov," One of the older soldiers she had served with, a sergeant and another captive, whispered her last name. " _We're getting close to their camp. I know it. I saw their maps three nights ago_."

He had spoken in her mother tongue, the Russian that she had grown up with and been forced to abandon at the ripe age of ten. These last few years of speaking it consistantly had made the warmth of nostalgia wrap around her heart. The Americans had never taken kindly to the language of home.

"Eh?" Kostya made an inquisitive noise, eyes darting briefly to him. Any discussion amongst her brothers was forbidden by the Germans around them. But, the way they were unpacking and taking discreet sips from their flasks, she assumed they wouldn't notice. Obviously, her sergeant did to or he wouldn't take the risk.

" _Tomorrow night, we will rise up. We cannot take the chance that they bring us to their superiors. Some might break and divulge information to the German officers_."

" _I understand. I will take great pride in slicing that Nazi prick's_ -"

" _No!_ " Her seargent hissed. A random Nazi soldier turned to look at them, his eyebrows furrowed, but the two had already returned their eyes to the ground. Kostya kept her eyes hidden behind the mud-stained red of her boyishly cropped hair. The bangs were the longest part, but they barley touched her eyebrows, and she had to duck her head low to hide behind them. " _When the fighting starts, you must run if things turn badly_."

A growl tore from Kostya's throat. Her heart clinched at the orders of her superior. Ordinarily, she would not talk back, but given the circumstances, she thought she was entitled. " _Sir, I will not run. I am not a coward_."

A small smile fell to the edges of her sergeants lips, his large moustache managing to cover most of it. " _No, you are not. You are a medic. We protect medics in battle and I will protect you once again, little brother_."

Kostya felt her throat tighten. There was little in the world that could persuade her sergeant against an order. He was a good man, and had always told her he was never afraid to die. That dying in the service of others was more than a man like him could ask for. No, he was not easily persuaded, but she would try.

Just as Kostya opened her mouth to retort, a shot rang through the air and one of the Nazi's dropped dead. It was the calm before the storm, because for a moment everything was still before bullets were being fired from all directions.

" _Pashkov, run_ -" before the sergeant could finish his command, a bullet popped his head open and Kostya was covered in a spray of her friend's blood.

She heard the German's shouting orders to shoot the prisoners, making sure none of them escaped this impromptu fire fight. When the young woman looked up, her comrades were dead or dying and a slew of men in French civilian clothing were descending from the tree line they had stopped near.

"Fuck!" Kostya let out in English, hitting the ground as fast as she could. She belly-crawled like they made her in boot camp across the dirt towards a fallen Nazi. Her hand outstretched towards the body, hoping to pick up the handgun still strapped to his belt. A bullet grazing too close deterred her and Kostya quickly made her way past, getting to her feet and sprinting towards the tree line, hoping to get lost in the fray.

Suddenly, a sharp pain went up her leg and a cry left her throat. She had seen and treated enough battle wounds to know what this meant. Kostya had been shot, likely in the calf, going by where the pain originated from. In a strange twist of fate, she was back on her knees again.

A thump next to her caught Kostya's attention. Green eyes grazed the darkness, finding another injured soldier laying and cursing a mere three feet from her.

Kostya scrambled across the dirt until she reached the soldier. He was cursing up a storm as Kostya tore open his jacket. It was at this moment she realized two things: this man was most certainly not a Nazi, going by the star of david resting on his hairy chest, and he was bleeding profusely from his side.

" _Where is your medi-kit? Where is your fucking medi-kit?_ " Kostya shouted at him in German. It had taken three years of practice and study when she wasn't shooting at the Nazi's to finally get a good grasp of their language. He was screaming when she shook his jacket again, but her Medic urges had kicked in and she wouldn't run away and let this non-Nazi die. Besides, she would take the medi-kit when she patched him up and use it on her own leg if she managed to get away again. " _Tell me where the fuck it is, dumbass!_ "

There was again. The cold press of a gun to the back of her head for the second time in an hour. Kostya released the man beneath her and got to her feet as best as she could with the injury in her calf.

"Wicki? Stiglitz? Either one of you wanna tell me what the fuck this asshole is yelling at Donny for?" The holder of gun was clearly speaking to someone else and Kostya took this moment to assess. Clearly all the shooting had stopped, not that she noticed, having been too busy screaming at the Jewish man at her feet. And the man behind her was speaking English. Going by his accent her was American, with a strange twang to it, which could be worse.

" _You're friend is wounded. Badly._ " Kostya kept up the German. She had been taught a long time ago not to reveal more than she had to about herself when she was in a murky situation.

"He said that Donny's got a bad wound." There was another voice with an accent not precisely American.

"Turn around," The first voice told her, but she remained still, knowing that her facade would only hold if she waited for a translation, not that she wasn't fluent in English. Eight years in New York had given her a firm grasp of the language. Though her mother still tutted when her Russian accent came through.

" _Turn around_." The second voice commanded. Kostya limped her way around, coming to face a group of men, two of whom were closer than the rest. They were both older than the typical soldier. The one with a gun still pointed at her head was an enigma. He had brown hair with soft strands of grey and thick moustache above his lip, reminding her of her sergeant. Dead sergeant. Most intruiging, was the noose scar around his neck. Her eyes lingered over it for a moment before remembering the situation.

" _He needs help. I'm a medic._ " Kostya explained.

"Says he's a medic and that Donny needs help." This was the second man speaking, the one who spoke German. He had a bit of a crooked mouth and kind eyes that were belied by the scalps hanging from a ring attached to his belt. A grimace set on her own lips at the sight of it.

The first man, who was clearly in charge, holstered his gun and gave Kostya a look of appraisel. "Now, why the hell would you wanna help him?"

A sneer came to her lips as she snarled her next words at the man. " _Because I'm not a German, stupid! I'm a Russian field medic captured in an ambush! Or did you not notice that while you and your men were shooting indescriminently?_ "

The first man turned his head to the second, eyebrows raised at both her tone and her words. "Wicki?"

The second man, Wicki, was fighting to keep a smile off his face. He clearled his throat, knowing the spit of her words would not sound very respectful, but having to repeat them anyway. "'Because I'm not a German, stupid' were his exact words, I believe. He's a Russian field medic that got captured in an ambush."

Before the first man could give a reply, Kostya powered on, ignoring the surprised looks from both men. " _Your friend is bleeding very badly. My guess is he was shot. You know nothing, but I can fix him._ "

"He said that Donny's bleeding out and that he can fix him."

"What's to stop us from just saying fix 'em or we shoot you?" The man in charge asked, putting his hands on his hips and eyeing Kostya.

Wicki gave her the German version.

Kostya shrugged her shoulders. " _I'm already shot. Go ahead and shoot me again. Kill me. I'm fine with dying by my brothers._ "

Wicki seemed to frown at that. "He says he's already shot. Says to go ahead and kill him. He's fine with dying by his brothers."

"That right?" The man in charge licked his lips. "What is it you want in return for saving Donny?"

"Fuck! Someone do something already!" The Jewish man at her feet, Donny, began shouting instead of the quiet groaning he had been keeping up thus far. His hand was placed over the bleeding wound.

" _Wicki, yes_?" Kostya looked at the man in question, eyebrows raised. He seemed surprised at her direct contant with him. "Apply direct pressure to the wound and tell your friend to quit crying. Then tell your superior officer that I will fix your friend in exchange for the use of a medi-kit to fix my own leg and my freedom."

"Uh," Wicki stammered for a moment before dropping beside Donny and doing as she said. He gave her offer to the man in charge and then continued the pressure.

"A medi-kit and freedom for a Russian captive, huh? Tell him to show me some prove that he's Russian and he'll have himself a deal."

Wicki gave the order and Kostya was quick to tear her dog tags from her chest, throwing them at the boss. He caught them easily and inspected the Russian writing. As if to drive the point home, Kostya spoke again, but in her mother tongue. " _That proof enough, fucker?_ "

The man pursed his lips and nodded before tossing the dog tags back. "Seems Russian to me. Wicki, give him my name and tell him he's got a deal."

" _This man's name is Aldo Raine and he says that he agrees to the terms_." Wicki spoke in German, eyes cast up to look for Kostya's reply.

A flash of recognition went through Kostya when she heard that name, but she surpressed it. Instead, she limped up to the man in question, Aldo Raine, and spoke in perfect English, "My name is Konstantin Pashkov. You can call me Kostya, Aldo the Apache. Now, someone give me a fucking Medi-kit."


	2. A (Slightly) Generous Offer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two patch jobs, a lot of questions, and an over.

"You talk English pretty good for a Russki.”

The voice came from behind Kostya, but she didn’t have to see his face to know that it was Aldo the Apache. He came to hover over her while she unpacked the medi-kit and started surveying Donny. Many of the others were watching as well. The translator from earlier, Wicki, was there, along with someone they called Utivich and the legendary Hugo Stiglitz. It seemed the four of them didn’t trust her very much with their friend, not that she blamed them. The Germans who captured her had made her patch up one of their own with a gun to her head, so she knew the circumstances now could have been worse.

Without looking back, Kostya answered the older man, her hands working to open Donny’s shirt. “I lived in New York for eight years.”

“New York?” Utivich asked, drawing her attention to finally look at the men. They were all either sitting or squatted around her. Hugo still had his hand on his gun, but Aldo looked rather relaxed. “If you’re from New York why are you in the Russian Army?”

Kostya shrugged her shoulders, wondering how much of her life she wanted to reveal to these men. She knew they were considered the good guys, but that didn’t mean they would be good to her. “I came back to Russia so I could help with the war.”

“Coulda helped just fine up in America,” Aldo looked at her.

“I was living in New York when I got word that an old friend back home was enlisting. I went to Russia to follow and make sure he stayed safe.”

“And did he?” Aldo asked, a strange look in his eye. “Stay safe?”

A lump caught in Kostya’s throat as she thought back to the event three months ago. The blood that covered her hands and poured from his mouth. Blood that looked just like the kind on her hands now, as she carefully palpated and inspected the wound on Donny’s side.

“Well,” She cleared her throat, hoping to change the topic. “Your friend is lucky. A few centimeters to the right and he would have a hole through his lung, which cannot be fixed in the field. As it is, this is nothing more than a simple laceration. The bullet grazed his side. Painful and bloody, but not deadly.”

“I thought you said he was in bad shape,” Aldo frowned at her. She knew what he was thinking, that she had tricked them for her freedom.

“I thought he was. As I said, it was very bloody. I couldn’t tell the severity of the wound until I had cleared away the blood.”

“So, what are you gonna do to me, Doc?” Donny asked from underneath her hands. He had been moved to a more comfortable position, closer to a fire they had built so that he would remain warm and Kostya could see better. Her own jacket was pillowed behind his head.

“There isn’t much to do,” Kostya gave a shrug and began digging through the medi-kit. She was lucky enough to find a needle and a thread, which was quite unusual in a kit. “I’ll sew you up, bandage the wound, and you’ll be good as new.”

“Wait,” Wicki held up a hand. “I didn’t think they taught field medics how to do stitches.”

“They don’t,” She answered easily, beginning to thread the curved needle. “Fortunately, my father was a doctor at an aid station during the Great War. I learned a great many things from him and my mother who was a…a nurse in the war as well. Does anybody have any alcohol? A flask, perhaps?”

Three flasks were suddenly thrust in her face. Kostya blinked owlishly before grabbing the one Aldo held out. A hand came to grab it as well, belonging to Donny. “No!”

They all stared at her for her barked order to the man.

“Drinking makes the bleeding worse. The flask is to cleanse the wound,” Kostya told them all patiently. She had to remember that these men were fighters, not healers. Her attention went back to Donny. “Now, I will not lie, this will hurt. I will not waste a morphine syrette on such a simple wound. Are you ready?”

“Ah, fuck!” Donny grumbled, looking up at all the faces of his friends around him before he finally returned his gaze back to Kostya. “Just give me something to bite down on and get on with it, Doc.”

At a nod from Kostya, a belt was pulled out and put in Donny’s mouth which he firmly bit down on. He gave a nod and the young woman quickly got to work. She was quick to pour the contents of the flask on Donny’s side, hearing him grunt as the liquid hit his open wound. With quick movements, she handed the flask back to Aldo and started stitching up the wound, her attention completely on the wound, unaware of the way the others seemed to evaluate her and her skills.

A few minutes later the stitches were tied, and she was putting the bandage over the wound. It was now that Aldo cleared his throat to gain her attention. “What kinda movement is he lookin’ at?”

“If he wants to heal, then keep it minimal,” Kostya told him, finishing the bandages and struggling to get to her feet with her injured leg. “However, given your guy’s reputation, I assume that’s out of the question. So, likely his stitches will tear, and he’ll bleed. But he shouldn’t die. Unless, he gets an infection. In which case, out here, he probably will die. My recommendation: take it easy. Or don’t, you’re not my problem.”

Kostya reached down and picked up the medi-kit, limping over to a patch of dirt where she could sit and fix her leg. A hand stopped her from moving though, a tight grip on her bicep belonging to Aldo. “What if he were your problem though?”

“Then I would evaluate my choices that lead to that happening,” Kostya snarked, pulling her arm out of his grip. She didn’t know what he was getting at, but she knew it wouldn’t lead anywhere good.

Aldo evaluated her, from the tips of her worn out boots, passing the flatness of her chest she achieved with bandages, and lingering on her green eyes. “How old are you boy?”

Twenty-three, she wanted to answer with her real age, but she knew that was impractical. She had been passing as a boy, not a man. She tried to remember the age that she had given the recruiters back in Russia. “I’m nineteen.” 

Aldo gave an approving nod. “Why don’t you sit on down here by the fire and fix up that leg while we have a little talk?”

“Do I have much of a choice?” She asked, eyes narrowed at the man. She knew his reputation, hearing stories of the Jewish brigade from some of her brothers-in-arms. They had whispered about their leader, Aldo the Apache. Some had made jokes at the American’s cost, while others had whispered rumors of his viciousness like they were ghost stories, meant to scare. Thus, common sense told her to be cautious of anything this man might say.

“Not really,” Aldo smirked and gave her a little push towards the fire. She sneered at him but limped forward anyways, dropping heavily into the dirt with a grunt and pulling up her pant leg. “So, I see you’re pretty good at all that docterin’.”

“Well, seeing as how I’m a medic, I would hope so,” She spoke while opening the medi-kit. “Mind giving me your flask again?”

Aldo hands over his flask and watches the way she clenches her jaw as the liquor pours over the wound she had exposed. “So, we let you go, whatcha gonna do when your free? Looks like you don’t got your squad no more.”

“I do not,” Kostya breathed through the pain. “I suppose, I will have been written as missing in action, dead, or a prisoner of war.”

“Well, since the Russians ain’t got no more use for you, I’m thinking that maybe we do.” Aldo gave her a strange sort of smile, like he knew something she didn’t. He did, Kostya supposed, know many things that she didn’t.

“Like what?” She asked as she pulled out a pair of surgical plyers. Kostya steeled herself for what was about to happen as she reached into the wound with the plyers. A sharp gasp and then a shrieking cry tore itself from her throat while she dug for the bullet that had embedded itself in her flesh. Little sounds were made with each movement of the plyers, earning looks of concern from everyone in the camp. Kostya hoped that her high voice could be attributed to the false age she had given them, and they wouldn’t be suspicious.

A few seconds later the bullet was in the dirt and she was gasping for breath through the pain. Her hands trembled when she began the stitches, making it an even more painful and slow process.

“Well we ain’t got a proper medic on this team and with Donny injured and open to infection, might be time for us to finally fix that.”

Kostya looked up from tying the final stitch. “You want me to come along with you as your medic?”

“Smart kid,” Aldo smiled.

Kostya gave it a moment of thought while she put the bandage over her wound and tugged her pant leg down. She didn’t have a reason to be with the Russian Army anymore. Not with her whole reason for being there having become null months ago. “Would I have full freedom within your team and your trust?”

“Freedom? Yes. Now, trust…trust is something you gotta earn,” Aldo told her, a strange tone in his voice.

“I…can understand that. I agree to your offer,” Kostya held out her hand. It was clasped rather roughly by the man while he gave her a big grin.

“Welcome to the team, Doc.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well I hope you guys liked this chapter. Comments and Kudos give this story life. Thank you to you brave few who are actually reading this. I'm glad you're along for the ride!


	3. The Lead Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kostya deals finds fondness for Donny, deals with her mounting attraction and increasing frustration for Aldo, and prepares for her first fight with the Basterds.

"Cone-stan-teen," Her name was drawn out and badly mispronounced as one of the men jogged up to her, Donny, as it was. He was the one who seemed to talk to her the most, aside from Wicki and maybe Aldo. Though, the leautinant mostly just issued her orders and asked her questions like she was a prisoner rather than medic. "Ain't ever heard a name like that. Russian, yeah?"

"It is Konstantin," She replied, holding back a tongue-lashing at the way he butchered her name. "It is a Russian name, yes. But, as I said, you may call me Kostya. It is easier."

"How the fuck do you get Cost-ya from Cone-stan-teen?" He asked, shooting her an amused look, his thick eyebrows knitting together.

"It is Kostya and Konstantin. 'Kon' not 'cone'," She hissed, annoyed at the typical American pronunciation. It was like high school all over again, the way everyone poked and prodded at her name, accent, and everything else different.

"Con-stan-teen," Donny sounded out the words, finally getting it close to proper. "Alright. Still kinda weird."

"What the fuck kind of a name is 'Donny'?" She bit back, reaching into her pocket to pull out a pack of cigarrettes. Before, Kostya had never picked up one of the sticks, but in the near week of traveling with the 'Basterds' she had somehow picked the habit up. It eased her nerves, giving her something else to focus on besides the fact that she was traveling with rumored butchers and the possible revelation of her true gender.

She took one of the cigarrettes out, leaving the rifle they had given her hanging over her shoulder, and stuck it between her lips. A lighter was produced from her other pocket, a familiar one with the initials DS scratched into it. Her thumb traced over the letters before she finally flicked it open and lit the cigarrette between her lips.

"Was you're mother afraid you'd be too stupid to grasp more than two syllables?" Kostya asked smoothly, the stick bobbing between her lips as she spoke. Her eyes travelled up to Donny as a round of laughter went through the group of men, even illiciting a smirk from Aldo. Kostya was surprised to see a smile on his face.

"Hey, LT!" Donny called, causing Aldo to turn his head to look at them from where he lead. "I like this kid! He's got some bite."

"What we need to do is get him some civilian clothes," Stiglitz spoke up from his place a few paces a head. "So he doesn't stick out like a fucking Russain thumb."

"Don't worry," Aldo called back. "That map I found when we picked up our little Russian says we're getting close to a rendevouz camp. I think that's where they were taking the Russians before we stepped in. After that it's a couple miles til we hit a French village. We can pick up some clothes for Kostya and resupply there."

Kostya remembered the ache in her leg at the mention of their previous meeting. She knew they were close and that they'd be fighting again.

"It'll be a good chance for the boy to start settling up his debt," Aldo slowed and looked back at Kostya.

"What debt?" She wrinkled her nose and pulled the cigarrette from her mouth, dropping it to the ground and stomping it out with her boot. "I saved the stupid giant. I owe you nothing."

Donny huffed at being referred to as the stupid giant, but ignored it as Aldo kept talking. "I'm talkin' about the scalps, boy. Every man under my command owes me one-hundred Nazi scalps. Now, I realize that you don't much qualify as a man, being that you still haven't seem to hit that growth spurt yet, but you're still under my command and I want my damn scalps."

" _Fucking savage_ ," She hissed in Russian, earning looks from the rest of the crowd.

"The fuck are you saying?" Donny asked, looking down at her.

"I said 'fucking savage'," She repeated for them all to hear. "You're crazier than I thought if you believe for one minute I'll be scalping anyone. I don't want Nazi hair handing from my belt. Put me off my dinner."

"That much of a pussy?" Donny asked with a grin on his face.

"I've dug bullets out of men with my bare hands," She held one up as if to emphasize her point. "Put tourniquets and wrappings on bloody stumps of limbs. Besides, I am not technically under your command. I will not be scalping anyone for you, Leautinant."

"Hush up," Aldo called, raising a hand. Everyone stopped in their tracks as he waved Wicki over, pulling a folded up map from his jacket that Kostya assumed was the one he took from the Germans. The two conversed between themselves, everyone else taking a moment to collect themselves.

Kostya dropped her rifle and walked over to where Donny stood. "Lift up your shirt."

"Huh?" He looked down at her with furrowed brows.

"I want to check on your wound," She grew impatient, waving her hands at him to lift his shirt. Donny did as asked and barely flinched when she touched the knitted skin. "Well, it'll scar, but that is all it will do."

"Donny gonna live?" A voice spoke from beside them. Kostya turned her head to look into the burning blue eyes of Aldo. She swallowed thickly and nodded.

"For now," She stepped back from both men, hoping to put some distance between them. Kostya was a woman and while she had been known to have a daliance or two with a willing woman, she did like men. And through this past week she had noted that her new comrades were attractive, but none seemed to get to her so much as Aldo. 

Since the first time she laid eyes on him it was obvious he was handsome, but it was hard to think about things like that when she was bargaining for her life and trying to pass for a man at the same time. But there were little moments in the last week, moments when she got close enough to him that she allowed herself to feel that swirl in her gut and the pitter-patter of her heart before pushing it back down. Moments like now.

"Alright," Aldo nodded, looking her up and down as he likely sensed the oddness of her movements. "Well the Kraut camp is about another mile up far as we can tell. Plan is to hide off into the trees until night. Then we spring out and bring a whole barrel a hurt on those bastards."

Kostya nodded her agreement and began to walk away before her arm was caught by Aldo. "Now, Doc, I want you to keep an eye out in this one and lay low. Ain't no good getting yourself shot."

A half-stunned, half-offended look passed over her sharp features. "I can fight-"

"I'm sure you can," Aldo spoke as if he were appeasing a child. Though, she supposed, that her false identity as a nineteen year old boy made her seem a child to him. "But I just got a decent medic for my men and I ain't ruining that just 'cause you wanna prove a point. You understand me, boy?"

A sneer came to her face as she tore her arm from his grasp and closed the distance between them. " _You are not my commanding officer_."

Green burned into blue as Aldo leaned just that much lower. "Now, I don't know what kinda Russki shit you're saying, but it better have been somewhere along the lines of 'yes, sir'."

"Yes, sir."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys like it. I realize that it may seem as if Donny is becoming closer to Kostya than Aldo, but the reason for that will be revealed in the next chapter. Thanks for reading! Comments and kudos are awesome!


	4. A Bullet, a Song, and a Secret Discovered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kostya bonds over a wound with Aldo and starts to feel like she might be able to settle in with her new found squad. But it's all torn apart by Donny.

Kostya remembered this feeling. The sick curling in her stomach and the itch in her fingers as gunfire rang in the air. The last time she heard gunshots the remainder of her squad got killed and she ended up with a bullet in her calf.

There was a sound to her right and Kostya spun, firing at a German soldier running towards her. He hit the dirt a few feet from her and she brought the rifle up again, looking for another target. Her eyes settled on a man pointing his rifle at Utivich and she squeezed the trigger and watched the German drop, keeping her from having to patch up Utivich, or possibly let him die.

A sudden grunt behind her caused Kostya to turn, her eyes flashing to look at the fell body of a Nazy with a knife behind her, bleeding out. "I thought I told you to lay fuckin' low!"

"There's too many to let me sit by," She answered the voice that was Aldo Raine in all his righteous indignation at her having disobeyed an order. "I already kept Utivich from being shot!"

"And damn near let yourself get gutted in the meantime," Aldo hissed back. She could feel the heat of his body pressed against the line of her back and would have shivered had she not been in the middle of combat and keeping from telling Aldo to 'fuck off'. "I ain't got time to watch your back, boy."

"Then don't," She raised her rifle and shot a man to her right, taking a quick moment to reload with the ammo at her belt. "I can take care of myself."

"I'll believe it when I see it," He gave a disbelieving laugh as he lined his back up with hers. The pair of them took shots at the remaining Nazi's, Aldo acheiving the higher body count, but Kostya's shots were nothing to laugh at. The pair of them made quite a sight, standing in the middle of battle, a man in civilian clothing picking off German's with a grin on his face while a Russian medic pressed back against him and did her best to watch out for the others.

"You're seeing it now, _мой командир_ ," The last words were spoken with sarcasm as she managed to shoot one Nazi in the back as he fled the camp.

"The fuck did you just call me?" He twisted and looked down at her, watching a shit-eating grin spread across her face before she shook her head in dismissal. His eyes went back to the rest of his squad, all of whom were chasing after the remaining Nazis. "Hey, take some of these assholes alive!"

Kostya finally took a restful stance when she realized her part in this battle was over. She swung the rifle over her shoulder and came around to face Aldo, a grin still on her face. The gunfire died down and by now it was just the grunts of captured Germans. "I assure you, anything I call you means only that of the utmost respect."

"Don't sound like it," He narrowed his eyes at her, having caught the mocking tone of her voice even in Russian.

"That would be because you don't speak Russian, _мой командир_ ," She said the words again, this time with a patronizing lilt, knowing that he wouldn't understand a word of what she called him. She watched him open his mouth to reply before his eyes flash behind her and she was shoved to the side.

A two shots rang out as Kostya's body collided with the dirt, the young woman scrambling to turn and find out what happen. She found a German behind where she would have been standing, having feigned death but was now officially dead, a gun in his hand. Hitting the ground to the left of her was Aldo, a grunt leaving his mouth.

" _Fuck_!" Her words rang out in Russian as Kostya scrambled to where he was, hands sliding up and down his body until she found the injury. " _Off! Off!_ "

The other Basterds turned at the sound of her frantic voice, alarm growing when they caught sight of their leautinant on the ground and their new medic tearing his jacket open. Each one let out a number of curses and shouts, Wicki, Utivich, Stiglitz, Donny, and Omar running over, leaving the others to watch the two Nazi prisoners.

"Leautinant!"

"What happened?"

"Jesus, fuck!"

"Everyone shut the fuck up!" Kostya hissed in english. She managed to wrangle the jacket off of Aldo while he muttered his own curses and she started pulling open his actual shirt. The garment was finally removed and her fingers spread over his left bicep, smearing blood on her hands and his skin. Finally, she let out a relieved sigh and bowed her head. " _God have mercy on this fucking idiot and grant me patience to deal with this_."

None of them understood her, so of course there was more shouting, this time directed at her with questions of what was happening. Kostya raised up a hand and was surprised that they all fell silent at her command. "Calm down. He was hit in the bicep. I was afraid it had hit the brachial artery, but it is fine. He will be fine."

"Fuck, I coulda told ya I wasn't bleedin' out!" Aldo barked. "Goddamn piss-shot Nazi couldn't hit the broad side of a barn."

"You and your boorish grunts of injury belong in a barn!" Kostya nearly shouted. A look of surprise passed over the others, though Aldo seemed to look at her with a mix of pain and curiosity. "I took it for a serious injury the way you cursed and grunted at my hands! Are you all such dramatic fucks?"

"Well, gee there, Doc," Aldo had the nerve to give an amused grin as he pushed himself to a sitting position with his good arm. "Sounds like you might care a little. I didn't take you for the type."

A blush spread over her cheeks and heated up her ears. She thanked God that it was dark and no one should be any the wiser. "I care about any soldier who is injured in my care. Don't think yourself special, _мой командир_."

"Good thing we got a doc now, huh?" Donny commented, breaking the silence among the others. He was giving Kostya a look of suspicion, though she knew not what for.

"Oh, yes! Lucky you!" Kostya replied. "Unlucky me. At least if you had shot me in that ambush I wouldn't have to deal with you."

"Alright, everyone. Shows over," Aldo got to his feet with and gestured back at the prisoners. "You boys bring those two over here. Doc, you can patch me up while I talk to them. Come on."

Kostya followed him to where he dropped on a rock, the two Nazi prisoners brought in front of him. With the relief flooding her veins, Kostya came to kneel at his left side, taking out her medi-kit and sorting through for the needed supplies.

"Donny, go get yer bat," Aldo told the man. Wicki and Hugo were nearby, ready to translate or shoot a prisoner at a moments notice. "Wicki, why don't you explain to these boys that we'd like to know more about who else was supposed to be coming to this rendevouz point?"

Kostya lost herself in her work, threading a needle and preparing the bandages. She listened to Wicki and Aldo interrogate the prisoners, though her focus was on a small morphine syrette that she was debating on using. It was a painful place to get shot and Aldo should count himself lucky that the bullet hadn't went all the way through and completely torn apart his muscles. But, with the artery near, it would also mean that she would have to pick the bullet out with her fingers. There was no way she would risk nicking the artery with plyers.

"Wicki," Aldo readjusted his seating as he spoke, drawing her attention back to the men behind her. "Tell these boys that they got one more chance to speak up or I'm gonna let Donny pick one of them and beat their ass to death. Doc, what's taking so long?"

Wicki translated while Kostya looked up at Aldo. "This will hurt. I have to pull the bullet out with my fingers. Finish your interrogation and I will begin."

"I can handle some pain. Donny take your pick."

It was with a shocking lack of hesitency that Donny, bat held aloft, swung at the head of one of the prisoners. The sound was sickening, but Kostya could not look away, even when a spray of blood came with another hit and specks of it splashed across her boots. Everyone around her was laughing and cheering while she simply watched with a disgusted fascination.

"Wicki, tell him he's next if he don't give us something," Aldo seemed completely unphazed as Donny pounded the head of the other German, his brain looking like bloody canteloupe. He even carried on with the interrogation as if nothing was happening, his voice clear among the jeers of the others.

Kostya swallowed and tore her eyes away from the scene, going back to her task of prepping for Aldo's procedure. She listened to the German prisoner explain that the rendevouz point was only between his squad and the one that had captured Kostya, that no one else was coming and they had meant to march through the town two miles away.

"Give me a minute, doc," Aldo moved away from her and sauntered towards the remaining prisoner. She listened to some strange form of twenty questions surrounding the prisoners plans upon release and whether he would relinquish his uniform. It seemed it was only from one second to the next that Aldo went from easy questions to carving swastika into the forehead of the prisoner with his rather large knife.

A mere few minutes later the young man was running into the forest, screaming and crying, tripping over his own feet. It didn't seem to matter to him which way he was going as long as it was away from them.

"Well, saying we believe him, Donny," Aldo sat back on the rock next to Kostya as if nothing had transpired. "I want you and Utivich to head into that town two miles up. Take Wicki with you and see what kind of supplies you can scrounge up. Make sure you bring back something more befitting our little team for the Doc to wear. The rest of you start grabbing ammo and whatever else you can get from these guys. Scalps included. Doc, you get to working on my arm."

Kostya took that moment to pull the cap off the morphine syrette and jam it into Aldo's thigh, earning a surprised shout from the leautinant along with an accusing glare. "The fuck?"

"Don't be a pussy," Kostya rolled her eyes. "You'll feel great in a moment. Now give me your flask."

Aldo visibly relaxed once the morphine started twisting through his system, reaching a lazy hand into his pocket and handing over the flask. She took it and unscrewed the cap, pouring a generous amount over his wound before taking a sip of it herself to ease her nerves. Twisting the cap back on, she slid it back into his pocket and took another good look at the wound. Honestly, he was tougher than she expected, letting the bullet rest there and going about business.

"This will hurt, a lot," She warned him, earning a dismissive wave. "But I have a feeling you can handle it."

"Just do what you gotta do, boy," He urged her on, not even watching her attend to the wound. However, he was made very aware of it when her fingers plunged into his flesh and began digging around. "Holy, fuck!"

"Almost out," She assured him, fingers grasping the pullet and tugging it from the wound to drop onto the dirt between them. Once again, she pulled the flask from his pocket and doused the wound. "There. The worst is over."

"You ain't a medic your a damn butcher," He glared at her while she merely smirked and shook her head.

"You'll thank me later." Kostya began busying herself with getting the needle and thread. A thought entered her mind and she swallowed, feeling a blush crawl up her skin once more tonight. "Speaking of thanks, I should be thanking you. In fact, I am. Thanking you, that is. You saved me and you didn't have to. So why did you?"

Aldo pursed his lips, seemingly thinking over her question. "Well I already told you, I just got a good medic for my boys. I'd like to not get that medic killed."

"Oh is that all?" There was a teasing lilt to her voice and she mentally admonished herself. God, she was disguised as a nineteen year old boy. There was no way she should be on the verge of flirting with a man who had taken up the position of her commander, even if she didn't like it.

"Well I suppose that there is the fact that I would die for any one of my men. Odd as it is, you are my responsibility now. Might factor into it a bit."

Kosty smiled softly and brought the needle towards her skin. "In that case, thank you, _мой командир_."

"You gonna tell me what that means?"

"No," She shook her head and the conversation died as she pushed the needle through Aldo's skin. To his credit, the man barely winced when she did it. Her hands moved with practiced ease, knitting the skin back together and then finishing it all with an intricate knot. "So it's all true then? About the bear jew and the swastikas on the forehead?"

"I suppose," Aldo answered as she picked up the bandage and wrapped it gingerly around his bicep.

"Interesting," she tied the bandages off and began packing her things up. "All done. Now, my recommendations are to keep it clean, don't put any strain on it, and don't tear my stitches. If you fuck up at any of those, come talk to me."

"Will do. Go on and relax now, Doc. You earned it."

"Yes, _мой командир_ ," She gave a mock salute and went to find her own spot to sit. She tried her best to ignore the faint tingling in her fingers from touching Aldo. She was a professional, she could ignore it. And in the meantime, a little shut eye wouldn't hurt.

Her eyes closed, but she could not bring herself to sleep. Everyone else seemed to have relaxed, either closing their eyes or muttering to themselves, all waiting for the return of the others. Kostya folded her arms behind her head and tried to calm herself, remembering a song that her mother used to sing saturday mornings as she puttered about the kitchen of their home in St. Petersburg. Her own shrieking voice had joined her mother's many times, never truly understanding the words. Now that she did, she was reminded of the man she had just patched up and her lips began moving of their own accord.

" _Oh, these gorgeous eyes, dark and glorious eyes,_  
 _Burn-with-passion eyes, how you hypnotise!_  
 _How I adore you so, how I fear you though,_  
 _Since I saw you glow! Now my spirit's low!_

_Darkness yours conceal mighty fires real;_   
_They my fate will seal: burn my soul with zeal!_   
_But my love for you, when the time is due,_   
_Will refresh anew like the morning dew!_

_No, not sad am I, nor so mad am I;_  
 _All my comforts lie in my destiny._  
 _Just to realise my life’s worthiest prize_  
 _Did I sacrifice for those ardent eyes!_ "

She had hardly noticed the silence until her voice stopped and she opened her eyes. Some of the men were staring at her, Aldo among them. Her heart clinched in fear. Had they discovered her from her high voice? It never sounded so womanly unless she was singing. She should not have been foolish enough to let her whims wander like that.

It was as Aldo was opening his mouth to speak that he was interrupted by the arrival of Wicki, Utivich, and Donny. "Hey, leautinant! We got what you asked, but even better than that, we found a place that we can bunk up for the night just outside of town."

Donny's voice boomed over anything Aldo might have said. They all perked up at that. It had been a long time since they had slept inside, even Kostya. Utivich nodded and had the good sense to keep his voice level. "Yeah, we'll probably have to go triplets or doubles in the rooms, but it's better than the ground."

"Well, shit, boys. Let's get moving then," Aldo smiled a real smile and they all gathered their things and followed Donny, Utivich, and Wicki.

It was Wicki who came to Kostya, though, taking a pack off of his back and rummaging through it. "We got you some new clothes. Should fit. You'll have to use your same boots."

"Thank you, Wicki," Kostya smiled and took the clean clothes from him. They marched on until they came to a farmhouse and then they all took out their rifles and cleared the house. It wasn't much, and it certainly was abandoned, but Kostya would happily stay here rather than on the forest floor.

"Okay, pick your rooms boys," Aldo allowed them to disperse, going off on his own to look around the house.

Kostya was quick to jog up the stairs and find an empty room. The window was open and a chill ran through the room, but she remedied it by closing the windows and the curtains, not eager to let passersby know someone was in here. The bed seemed comfortable aside from a bit of dust, but she didn't mind.

After making one last movement towards the door to lock it, Kostya allowed herself to relax fully for the first time in what felt like years. With the new clothes to change into, she began to strip, starting with her upper body. Upon freeing herself of her jacket and shirt, she looked down at the cloth binding her breasts and gingerly unwrapped it, hissing in pain as she pulled fabric with dried blood from her flesh, it having rubbed and torn through her skin enough to bleed and leave it raw.

The cold air nipped at her exposed skin and she relished in the feeling, her body free and her lungs able to expand fully. The medi-kit would be put to use on her wounds soon, but for now she merely enjoyed the feeling of it all.

Until the door that she had sworn was locked swung open and a bulky figure made his way into the room, closing the door behind him. "Hey, doc, you mind if I bunk with you tonight? I don't really..."

His voice dropped off when he actually looked at Kostya. She was there naked from the waste up, pale flesh exposed, including her breasts. Donny's eyes were wide as dinner plates, taking in the expanse of her dirty skin and her soft curves that had been obscured by the bulk of her uniform.

"Oh fuck," Donny nearly shrieked. "Jesus Christ, you're a g-"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys liked this chapter. Sorry for the cliffhanger. I hope nothing was too strange or out of character. I'll try to get the next chapter out as soon as possible. The song Kostya sang was an old Russian love song based on a poem and translated to English called "Dark Eyes". What Kostya keeps calling Aldo in Russian is "My Commander". It is intended to be mocking at first but may later turn to an endearment and sign of respect.
> 
> Thank you! Let me know what you think in the comments.


	5. A Revelation and a Promise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Donny makes a shocking discovery and Kostya learns a bit of trust.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been so long ya'll. I took my EMT test and then got hired and have been working 24 hour shifts. It is crazy. Sorry this is so short too. I hope the content makes up for it. Let me know what you think in the comments! Thank you for reading!

It was one forceful step that brought Kostya all the way into Donny's space. She pressed him against the door, his broad body hitting the wood with a resounding thump. A quick hand jerked to his belt and tore the knife from it, bringing the blade to press against his throat as she laid her free hand over his mouth.

"I am nothing," Kostya hissed, interrupting his attempts to shout her true gender. "I am simply a Russian medic. One who stitched you up, if you recall, and I can unstitch you here and now if you utter a word louder than a whisper. Now, can I trust you to be quiet?"

Donny nodded his head frantically, watching with wide eyes and Kostya hesitantly removed her hand from his mouth, though she pointedly still keeps the knife on his throat. His eyes drift down to where she's pressed against him, still nude from the waist up. From here he can make out scars on her body and what may have been a bullet scar on her hip. Swallowing thickly, he brought his eyes up to her's. "Uh, you're still really naked. And you're pressed really close."

"Grow up!" Kostya pressed the knife closer against his skin. "Now, I'm going to make you an offer, so listen carefully. I will let you go without slitting your throat if you let me get dressed and leave out the window."

"We're on the second floor."

"Donny!"

"Okay," Donny held his hands up in surrender. "But, before you run off, can I talk?"

"Do you really have anything worth saying?" She narrowed her eyes, unwilling to believe that he could have anything to say that she wanted to hear.

"Well, I was gonna say that I kinda knew there was something different about you. But, being fair, I kinda thought you were just a guy who wanted to fuck other guys, which I was fine with."

"What?" She loosed her hold on the knife, completely taken off guard by what he said.

"I'm just trying to say that I can be trusted," Donny was looking at her emphatically. "But, I gotta admit I'm still really fuckin' shocked that you're a-"

"Shut up!"

"I'm sorry!" Donny lowered his voice and looked around conspiratorially. "A girl. How long have you been a girl?"

Kostya served him a look that made him feel an inch tall, removing the knife from his throat completely. "Since birth."

"It's just...how did you get into the army?"

"Some good friends, a strip of bandages, and a strategically placed sock," she deadpanned.

"So are you gonna tell the others about this?"

"Are you insane?" She turned back to him. "Why would I do that? I'm going to leave."

"You don't have to leave," Donny took a step towards her as she moved away from him. "No one would care. I mean, you're a damn good medic. That more than makes up for it."

Kostya bit her lip and shook her head. "No. No one can know."

"Well, you can still stay. We need you, Kostya! Wait," Donny furrowed his brow as Kostya stepped away from him and began picking up the new clothes. With her naked back to him he could see the scars from wounds not properly tended to, likely because she refused to undress and assess her own wounds. "Is Kostya even your real name?"

"Konstantin Pashkov is my real name. Fortunately for me, it is unisex and thus it was easy to forge the proper documents."

"Besides that, please stay Kostya. We need a medic. We need you. And I will swear on my mother that I will not tell your secret," Donny had pulled out his big puppy eyes, looking at her stupidly. It made her chest ache, as she had grown rather fond of him in the past weeks. The way someone might become fond of a lost dog. "At least stay for a few days to think about it."

His eyes bore into hers and she felt great guilt. With a huff and small stomp of her foot Kostya made her decision. "A few days to think about it. I can promise no more. But I swear to you, Donny, if you breath even a word of this to anyone else I will split you from your adams apple to your dick."

"I promise! Thank you for staying, Kostya." Donny breathed a sigh of relief. Though, relief was short lived as a thought hit him so strikingly. "Oh, fuck! You saw me beat a guy to death with a baseball bat and your a girl!"

"Donny, shut up!" Kostya hissed, stepping back towards him with a shirt in her hands. He still struggled not to stare at her bare front. "Yes, I am a woman and yes I saw you do that. But I can assure you I have seen many violent things before and I am not nearly so faint hearted."

"If you say so," He seemed genuinely concerned before another thought took over. "Are you gonna put some clothes on?"

Kostya rolled her eyes and threw the civilian shirt over her head, neglecting to wrap her breasts again. The welts from the fabric hurt when the shirt brushed over them, but it was better than binding her breasts again and possibly making them worse. She then pushed out of her pants and put on the trousers the men had found her. The rest of the outfit would be put on tomorrow, but for now she was greatful to sleep in a bed.

"What did you come in here for anyway?" She asked Donny, who now had stepped away from the door.

"Oh, I was gonna ask if we could share a room, but maybe now-"

"Don't think that you have to be careful around me just because I'm a woman. You can share the room with me. Just hurry the hell up and get into bed so I can get some sleep."

"No, I should sleep on the floor."

"Donny."

"Yes, ma'am," The American got into the bed, turning his back towards Kostya as the young woman slipped underneath the covers, groaning when her body relaxed against the softness of the mattress. "Hey, Kostya? Thanks for staying."

"You're very welcome. Now go to sleep before I kick you out and get some peace and fucking quiet."

"Yeah, yeah, I will." Somehow Donny had managed to wait until Kostya was on the cusp of sleep before he spoke again. "Kostya?"

A grunt of annoyance was her answer.

"I was just gonna say that if you plan on staying, you should probably stop with the long smoldering stares at the LT."

"What?" Her eyes snapped open and she shifted quickly to look over at him. "I don't stare at him."

"You do. Trust me, you're not subtle. Of course, now it makes sense with you being a girl and all. But I just thought I'd give you the advice so you'll quit mooning over him in front of everyone," He said it so nonchalantly that it was almost as if he was giving her tips on how to shine her boots. "Okay, we can go to sleep now."

Suddenly, a rough kick sent him over the bed and onto the hardwood floor. In her mother tongue, Kostya snapped. " _Now I really will split you open, you doe eyed fucker! Enjoy your night on the floor._ "

**Author's Note:**

> Well, let me know what you thought in the comments! I hope you enjoyed yourselves. I may be able to get a couple chapters out sooner, as I am on spring break and almost completely done with my EMT training. Thank you for taking the time to read this and feel free to correct any cultural innacuracies.


End file.
